The Stars of Aglarond
by Ithilien
Summary: Ah, those Glimmering Caves! A source of beauty, most assuredly, but can they guide one lost soul to see light where before there was only darkness? A missing scene from ROTK, AU if you so believe. Sexual material. Stay away if this squicks you.


**A/N:** Good gods, I never thought it would happen, but indeed I have written what might be seen as a Legolas/Gimli slash fic! However, I prefer to call this erotica, not slash, and you will soon see why. It's another in my pool of "ambiguous" fics. Still, PLEASE, do not go here if you find sexual material squicky. I will make no apologies. This is not a story for everyone. In fact, it is really a story for just ONE, and that would be my dear friend, Elf Lady. It is written as a birthday fic for her, very belatedly, but given with love all the same. 

To Elf Lady, I hope you will not only find gratuitous pleasure in this *grin*, but meaning as well. It has layers in it that are meant for introspection, and I hope it will help you to keep your head up through all you have been experiencing of late. Cherish those you love. Big hugs!

**Summary:** Ah, those Glimmering Caves! A source of beauty, most assuredly, but can they guide one lost soul to see light where before there was only darkness? A missing scene from ROTK, AU if you so believe. **Legolas/Gimli sexual material. Stay away if this squicks you!!! Need I say more? Rated R.**

". . . Then Legolas repaid his promise to Gimli and went with him to the Glittering Caves; and when they returned he was silent, and would say only that Gimli alone could find fit words to speak of them . . . "

Chapter VI, Many Partings, _Return of the King_****

**The Stars of Aglarond**   
_by Ithilien_

Bone-weary. That was how mortals described such a feeling. 

An unnatural heaviness pulled on him, like a stone around his neck. There had been a slow build to it as their journey had gone onward west. They had traveled that path, and the sense of death that accompanied their direction made the company of men and elves somber and pained. And for Legolas, the feeling dragged, clinging to him. He could not rid himself of it, even though their burden now lay beneath a mound in the Barrowfield.

King Theoden was put to his place of rest and that seemed enough to some to let their grief fly free. There was both sadness and joy to the occasion, and Legolas was torn by both emotions, much as he had been for many months as the finality of their quest was recognized. And though a king had been put to ground, Eowyn and Faramir had been plighted in love at that same affair. Legolas' heart had leapt in happiness for these two fair people, but now he felt the sorrow of death lying upon him again.

The sensation was one that pervaded his body, going far beneath the layers of his skin. It trickled into his soul. It shelved all his vibrancy and youthful vigor to an aside place so that aged misery and aching neediness were put ahead to his attentions. Such were the feelings Legolas ascribed to his heart and body. He was bone-weary. He was tired, and thin of joy. He could only conclude that the battles and afflictions of the past year were finally revealing themselves and putting his soul into a troubled state. 

Still, it was not enough of an answer for what ailed him. There was more to this than simple fatigue and sadness. He sensed a change in the world, and it made him fretful. 

An ache pressed on his chest but he could not assign it to a source. All that he knew was that it was an agony that both eased and grew greater simultaneously. With each passing moment it was there and it faded. It pressed hard on his sternum, piercing his heart, choking his lungs. Was it heartache? 

He bowed his head to this conclusion, uncertain why it was taking him. Surely this was too extreme a reaction. Certainly elves were clever in their emotions, but not so great that they could succumb to anguish on a whim.

_Nay!_ he chastised in silent argument. _It is the sea that does this_. And he suddenly grew angry at his weakness._ It is only that! This need not become deepest remorse! It need not carry me to agony!_

And yet the hurt lay there before him. 

The celebrations and joyous festivals would be ending. They were not done yet, but soon. Soon his friends would be departing. Soon they would be headed on their respective journeys. Soon the elves would be parting these shores. 

In a quieter way, Legolas had felt joy in their separate passages. He could see the excitement in the faces of the hobbits, of the men, of the other elves, and even this sole dwarf. All anticipated changes in their worlds. Legolas did too. And they also expected a return to the routine to their lives, as did Legolas. The elf missed his homeland. He missed his father. And yet when Legolas pondered his reappearance in Mirkwood, he knew there was something of his eagerness that was void. 

For so long he had wanted to return to his home, to his simpler life, to be at the behest of his king and to return to the tasks assigned to him at his lord's command. Yet now he knew he could not do this with any real joy as he had imagined he would. He felt tarnished, as if a layer of darkness now marred him. He was changed. 

The sea's urging pushed at him. It wanted his answer. If the forests of his father were no longer his home, what place would serve as such to him?

_Valinor,_ a whisper called to him, as if spoken on the wind even though none was present. He shivered. 

Elves. Such a needy and emotional lot they were. Legolas knew what his companion would say were he to know the thoughts that ran through the elf's head just then. Doubtless it would be something about the lack of fortitude and resolve the Eldar possessed and how the dwarven folk were the obvious superiors in resistance to such compunctions as yearning. Yet elves, though a feeling folk, were far more capable of outlasting these physical and emotional irritations than what Gimli and his kind might ascribe. The Firstborn must. To be immortal means to tolerate all things. _Forever._ On a surface level Gimli was perhaps correct. Elves outwardly appeared frail and easily hurt. But at their core, they were resilient and enduring.

"What bothers you, elf?" Gimli's voice rumbled at his side as they walked up the narrows to the cave entrances of Aglarond. "You step as if each footfall hurts you," the dwarf said.

"Do I, Gimli? I had not noticed," Legolas replied trying to make his voice sound light, but in truth he was startled that the dwarf had discerned something amiss from him. He had not meant to appear ill.

"Perhaps you spend too much time astride that horse," the dwarf replied with a hint of mirth in his voice. "If it hurts you, I would be satisfied were we to walk the rest of the journey home."

A small smile crept over the elf's face, helping him to push aside his worry. Perhaps Gimli noticed not his fatigue. His words seemed more a ploy for easy banter and relief from the tedious silence. Surely Legolas had strength to mock the dwarf in return. "You look for an easy escape from Arod's back. I am aware of your deceptive ways, dwarf. Do not think to distract me by putting hurt upon my movements. It is you who aches, though this particular journey is but a short one. You surprise me then. You are not sore of saddle, are you?"

Gimli snorted in answer then. "How many days have we been upon that animal's back? Of course I am sore! How can you not be? That is my question!"

"I keep you not on Arod's back of my devices. It is you who seems attached to him. Arod and I cannot be rid of you, it seems, though for my part I do not mind the company," Legolas chuckled. 

"Ho, Legolas! I think it is you who tries to distract. You change the topic of converse!" the dwarf countered.

"Was there one?" Legolas said, stepping quickly up rocky steps on light feet.

The dwarf hurried his boots to catch up to the elf and did not seem to notice that Legolas was now stepping faster, as if racing away from the question. "I know there is something cheating you. Is it the dry air? The heat?"

Legolas looked up to the sky, almost laughing at these queries. The blazing orange fire of Anor as it lowered in the sky burned down onto the cut path of the gorge. A ribbon of water snaked past them, a reminder of the wealth of pools contained in that cave ahead. Yet about them, dry grass, the color of chalky gold crunched under their feet as they moved upward into those echoing walls. Legolas looked behind them, noticing that the sun's color radiated into the dust trail that followed them, filling the void at their backs with nothing of the place they had left. The air was murky where it came up around them, the windless current causing it to rise up and devour their legs and bodies in its unhindered stirring and for a moment Legolas imagined they walked through clouds.

But then his throat became parched for that dryness with the coppery taste of the earth trickling into his lungs, into his body, reminding him again of the bodies they had buried under mounds of that substance. 

"I would guess it is the heat. I am bothered by it as well. The Rohan sun is devilish, devised by a different set of gods than the ones you and I might know," Gimli chattered.

It was a simple ploy on the dwarf's part. A game he would play to get the elf to speak. Legolas would stop him. He cut him off. "Nay, Gimli, the sun bothers me little. But ask me no more, for I will maintain I am well." Still, he could not help but smile. Beneath the dwarf's voice he sensed the offering as a distraction, a way to help the elf forget his woes. Gimli was relentless in this way. He would pry mercilessly with questions designed to both irritate and amuse. But Legolas did not wish to play and he merely shook his head, not answering more for he knew anything said would be considered a clue to what really ailed him. Better to try and put it aside by giving it little attention than drawing more to it. 

"The sun will be past these cliffs soon. The shadows grow long and the day is ending," Legolas said, changing the conversation.

"And that is what bothers you?" the dwarf queried as if realizing simple goading would not work to reveal the source of his concern. 

Legolas realized suddenly that such was indeed true. Another day's passing was a bother to him, though how many times had he seen of days ending he could not guess. Never before had it been an anxious moment. This day was different though. It felt that so few were left to him, and that he needed to treasure what was left to him. Would that he could halt them entirely, he might have actually found peace.

"Leave off, Gimli, please," he whispered, and there was silence. A small grumble was heard at his back, but no more was there said to cause these aching thoughts to be stirred.

The scent of wild sage wafted up as the dried weed crunched beneath their feet. The scent was green and inspiring. It reminded Legolas of better times and of home. It sent his thoughts backward, to an inner peace he might find in times past. But then the sea's voice called out to him and it clouded his thoughts by prodding him and refusing to allow him relief. Always the sea beckoned him, urging him to come.

It was an irritation, and it was then that he realized how desperately he wanted to be free of it. In fact, he wanted to be free of all earthly possession, even if that possession was memory. He wished freedom from his knowledge, from time, from the clinging grasp life held over him to remain as he had been. And yet he knew that would do nothing to free him of the longing ways that edged over him. His desires could never be sated.

He looked to his companion then and he felt horrible sadness. This too would be lost. The comfort of the dwarf's presence would end, and weariness seemed to ride over him then with that thought. Legolas could have cried for that inevitability. They would be parted.

Oh, how he hated the world at that moment. Why could things not stay as they were? Elves, being the creatures of habit that they were, grew saddened when patterns were altered. This pattern would be changing. He could see it. The setting sun was imminent!

And then they met the end, though it was not as his thoughts had employed. There, before them stood the mouth of a great cave. It surprised Legolas, for it loomed large, filling the space as the walls of the cliffs came together and he not realized it until they were upon it. That showed just how lost the elf was in his dilemma. 

He twisted about, looking for Gimli's reaction, but the billowing dust wafting behind them drew his greater attention. The cloud was impenetrable, and in that moment Legolas felt a dread helplessness pervade him. They were trapped. He turned about to face the cave. Like all of what had been eating him, the maw gaped widely at him, mocking him. And behind them the dust pressed around them. It was as if the cloud had swallowed them up and now they were surrounded with no road to go to but into this one unknown. Anxiety washed over him. The depths of sightless darkness seemed to grow in that moment. The shadows from a waning sun pushed forward. As he looked to the cave, he knew not what lay there within, only that he was uncertain of it.

There was no light within. Legolas' feet were hesitant to go forward across a sandy floor. But he could see the dwarf's anticipation for what was ahead despite the fading light and he knew Gimli would not be held back. The dwarf fearlessly moved forward to meet this adventure, and with Legolas or without him, he would go. It was inevitable, and Legolas somehow knew he would be better to follow the dwarf into the unknown than to be left behind.

"I would assure you, there is nothing to fear here," Gimli's voice said as his figure disappeared into the darkness. Perhaps the dwarf had seen the elf's hesitation, and this is what prompted the words.

Despite the assurance, the elf shivered at the loneliness of the dark. Aside from the low grumble of the dwarf's voice and the sturdy noise of footfalls, the elf was blind to what lay before them. But their steps were not far into that fearful place for ahead was a window in the wall, breaking the sable visage and casting the warm light of a setting sun upon the cavern ahead.

In that, there was comfort.

"You see? There is grace here as well," Gimli said. "Behold!"

And with that Legolas' eyes roamed the immensity of a room that was more beautiful than anything he could recall seeing. He sighed in relief and sudden joy, for he had not expected so much beauty, especially after such a wave of anxiety had persuaded him to feel otherwise. It was astounding to look upon and there were no words he could utter to match how moved he was by the cavern they now found themselves within. 

He realized then that the dwarf was looking to him, waiting for some kind of response.

And then Gimli laughed heartily, bending at the waist and rocking forward in his mirth. "You did not foresee it, did you?" he teased. "You could not imagine the likes of something so inspiring in an underground hold? Now I shall die a happy dwarf, for elven senses were lost to you in this place!"

The words hurt! Why would the dwarf choose now to speak of death? The weariness crushed harder on Legolas then, and he turned away.

"You would not look into dark places for beauty," Gimli taunted with a chuckle, not realizing how harsh his brag was upon the elf's soul.

"There has been far too much darkness for my kind to try to pierce it for the jewels within," Legolas said, his words growing terse.

"Your loss, it seems," the dwarf laughed, shrugging, still not noticing the elf's darkened mood.

"Our curse!" Legolas spat back.

Gimli frowned, suddenly turning to his friend as if he then realized the elf's anger and hurt. "We do not speak of caves, do we?"

Legolas wheeled around to face the dwarf. His emotions came at him then as a storm. He hated Gimli. And he loved him. His heart felt sheared, as if it knew not which side of existence he should live within. "I cannot see ahead," Legolas said in a tight voice. "Do you not know this? Jest not with me! I cannot see what is before me! I am no different than any of my kind for that! I see nothing of the future!"

Gimli looked at him then and he took a small step forward. His voice became gentle. "Not true. You are like no other elf, Legolas. You are encouragement and excitement. You are perseverance and anticipation."

The elf turned his back, refusing to be comforted. "I made the mistake of accepting mortal friendships and now they make me look to where I would choose not to go!" Legolas completed.

"Ah, but you do see. You protest, but you know. I see no failure in that. Your kind could use the skills you have achieved," Gimli said with a small smile playing over his lips before continuing. But the elf would not look to him, and the joke was passed over. "I am saying that you have it in you to see the world with a different perspective than most elves," Gimli said, changing his voice to one of sobering firmness. "And that is a good thing as it makes you better able to adapt to mortal failings."

"Mayhap I am showing my true nature now. The nature of all elves," Legolas said with a sad shrug.

The dwarf grunted. "Mayhap you are letting the sea's call take you away with her constancy," Gimli chided with a knowing nod, and then his voice dropped to a whisper. "The time draws near that you must choose. That is what bothers you."

Legolas sighed. Gimli knew. And worse, he was correct; this ultimately was the core of the elf's hurt. Further, he did not know what he wanted in answer. He only knew a part of him was not ready to leave Middle-earth just yet, but he was also finding little reason to stay.

And then he turned and opened his eyes, allowing his friend into his heart. A warm hand patted him across the back and sympathetic eyes stared into his. Gimli indeed was his friend, and Legolas could see the love within those dark eyes. 

The dwarf nodded to him and smiled softly, but not in a pitying way. It was a look of understanding. And then those eyes became filled with excitement and they turned away, glancing to the room instead. Legolas did not follow though, choosing instead to keep his own gaze on his friend, absorbing and memorizing the vision of the dwarf. But Gimli would not to go alone. His eyes returned to the elf and he directed Legolas to look about them with a nod of his head. The unsaid words were clear. They told the elf he might resolve a part of his woes by taking in the beauty before them. The dwarf was unafraid, and he urged the elf onward. The invitation to enjoy what was present was there, and hesitant though he was, Legolas opened himself to what his eyes might meet. 

Though he had seen much in his initial sight, the light was dim, and he needed yet a moment for his eyes to adjust to it all the more clearly. The waning sun filled the cave, the western light flooding in on the ground surface about their feet and beyond. A lake within was illuminated brightly causing the water to show up as a luminous turquoise that made it seem warm and appealing as the air above it dissolved into darkness. But the reflection in the pool echoed its light upward causing a cascade of sparkling rays to shine across the ceiling. Though the 'sky' as it was remained darkened, crystals projecting from the side and top walls became illuminated, twinkling a thousand times over like the stars in the sky. A vein of golden marbling was highlighted in that amber light, like the wash of clouds in the heavens. And it was then that Legolas was truly moved beyond breathing. It was as if he were seeing the dawning of the Cuivienen, that he came to be transported. The vision was like that of one familiar to him, but distant as well, as if from another lifetime, a lost memory. The fading light of Anor sang beyond the window to the world outside, but the Song reverberated in the cavern as well, in the fashion of a choir meshing with the chorus of dancing water. The echoes of it carried across all the space of this room of the Aglarond caves, mixing with the droplets of water tinkling from the cascading pools in an exhilarating crescendo of noise that combined in a mesmerizing show with the light. 

The Song was anew. It was fresh to his ears, and like the vision of the world about him, it somehow felt like he was witness to all of Arda's beginning. 

Years uncounted had passed since that first dawning light had been shown to the Eldar, but in that moment Legolas felt as if he were there. He gasped as he looked to the skies, hypnotized by the beauty of the sparkling lights. He could find no words for what he saw, void suddenly of thought beyond the free flowing meditation of sound and light that overtook him a he gazed skyward. Constellations unknown to him winked down to his awed eyes. 

He felt like a child looking on that amazing beauty, and without even realizing he was doing so, he reached his hands heavenward, as if he were trying to touch those celestial bodies. A smile came over his face as the music filled his ears and the stars shone upon him and all reminders of reality and his aches were gone from him in that instance. He was free of the sea-longing and the ache that had pervaded his heart. The weariness of his body was gone, and he felt renewed and young. He could breathe. He was alive and vigorous pleasure filled his soul. 

With an intake of breath he felt his body stir and without reason beyond the sheer joy of the moment he found himself aroused, flesh pressing against the confines of his clothing. He could not fathom the reasoning for this, so primal was the response, and yet he felt what he visited was a primal time and place, and there seemed nothing shameful about that expression of pleasure. His heated flesh quaked in the excitement of this dawning, and he ran his hands over his body, embracing the joy of this awakening and the promise of beauty forevermore. It was as if the urge to spread this joy was in him then, unbounded by anything beyond instinct to do so. He wanted to add his part to this world. He wanted to contribute in the ways the Valar guided him. He was suddenly fevered with a passionate desire, and the urge was put upon him to spread his bounty, to touch what was new and exciting in him, to flourish in the beauty of this new beginning. It was a guide to his need.

Heat rose in him as he flushed with the excitement rolling over him. He trembled in uncontained pleasure -- so joyous was the build in delightful tensions he felt. He arched his back, arms falling to his side as he softly sighed to the beauty he beheld. He knew not of any other present with him. He lost track of all else then, not knowing anymore what was earth and sky, only knowing he was somewhere between them, weightless and willing to surrender himself to a lover he could not name. The Song took him, carrying him away. Turgid flesh throbbed in his loins, anticipation of the bliss somehow promised by those lustrous lights heating him to a fever and causing his breath to come in small gulps. He was free of all memories, consumed only with a passion for this newness, desire for this thing of the past crushing him to the point of his being overcome. He had no conscious thoughts, only knowing he was on the cusp of an ecstasy he had never thought could be his.

And then in a blink of light it was gone.

The sun dropped beyond the mountains of the outer world and with its fading the Song disappeared. All but a small glimmer of light on the eastern wall remained, but the stars and the sky were missing. 

He was heavy. He was falling. His legs crumbled beneath him and with an anguished cry he was bent. 

The crash to the floor came hard on his knees. The impact stung, but harsher was the agony that suddenly pierced his heart. 

And then he was held. He did not know when Gimli had taken him into his arms. Somehow the elf was kept safe, finding arms wrapped about him. He looked up into the deepset eyes of the dwarf and saw the concern in them. They delved his soul, searching for the source of his hurt. That comfort was only momentary relief, for in the next instance he came to see he had been duped into false hope. Nothing within the room was real. It was all a lie! 

He could not speak, his voice lost to him in his anguish and anger, as if the power to form coherent words was not yet a skill he possessed. All the same, he knew he felt betrayed, fooled into believing in a return to a past that was never his to have. He had been made to feel as if he might flee his pains.

"Speak to me, elf," the dwarf demanded. "Tell me what ails you!"

Legolas' breath came in short pants, his body still taut with the ache of promised need put upon it from only seconds before, and with a glance at Legolas' stiffened body, the dwarf realized the physical manifestation of this. But the elf's despair was incongruent to what one might put upon such a moment, and with confusion Gimli searched again for answers, muttering, "Do not ask this of me!"

However, Legolas was far beyond so earthly a need. His eyes welled with tears as he met Gimli's plea. "I am lost," he whispered. "I have no beacon for which to guide me. Where have the stars gone? I need something to guide me!"

The dwarf looked heavenward then, as if understanding what the gemmed sky had done, and he searched for an answer there. But it was then that Legolas felt the sea's call pry at him again, trickling around him, and his breath caught in his throat, awaiting the battering wave that might hit him with the relentless droning of its Song. He was helpless to it, and he knew it would pull him away then. No more would this place be a home to him. No more would there be his friends. All he had adored for centuries uncounted would be washed away with that tide. No seeds of renewal would be spilled on these lands. His joys would be carried away, taken across the sea, given to another land. 

Legolas knew without intervention, he would comply with the reverie the longing promised. His eyes pleaded with Gimli for help. "I need reason to stay," he sobbed before he turned his eyes to the sliver of light that showed the setting sun. A small ray of it was all that was left as it glanced off a far wall in the cave. It appeared like a signal, and he wondered that he should follow. He could not afford to be fooled yet again and he feared as much would happen if he remained within this cave. His eyes followed the sun and he knew that was where he belonged. He would go that way. There was his answer. 

He began to rise, heeding the call put upon his heart, but a weight held him back.

Looking to that which held him, he realized strong arms kept him firmly within an embrace. "Do not leave!" was the plea, the cry one of voice so deep that it sounded of the earth. "Do not leave! You have not seen all yet!" 

And then Legolas turned and looked into the eyes of Gimli.

"There, elf, there!" Gimli cried, directing his eyes yet still into the unknown darkness. "Look! All are not gone! See the light? See how it shines upon that wall? Look eastward, elf! There in the shadows the sun lays her most fetching jewel. Do you see it?"

Legolas was frightened. He did not want to look. He was fearful of what that sight might guide him to do. He could not afford to have his heart shattered yet again. The ache of his former urging was fading, but it still pressed on him, reminding him of promises left unfulfilled.

Gimli's eyes turned to the elf then, and his fears were mirrored in the dwarf's expression. Yet his misery seemed directed at the place where the sun broke through, and the dwarf's eyes shied from that light. Instead, in his glance, he encouraged the elf to look inward, to try again to see what the cave offered. The deep voice spoke, and though he knew it to be the timbre of sound from his friend, he saw naught of lips moving. It was a trick of the light, his friend's face wrought in shadow, all save those eyes. Deep and rich like the iron-ore earth, the dwarven eyes glowed brightly as the penetrating voice spoke. "Do not ask of me to heal you, but allow me to show you a way to ease your soul."

And with that, Gimli's eyes turned and Legolas followed suit. Without thinking to glance away, he sought out what the dwarf offered and he saw what was indeed a lovely sight. 

A single gem was shown in the piercing light of the setting sun. A sweep of rich blackness surrounded it, like the infinity of the night sky, draping it in a mantle that made it superb for its singled out beauty. 

It was green and it glistened brightly, as if it knew his need for something of life to hold him. The color was vibrant, verdant, like nature. It was the color of young plants. It was the color of renewal. He felt himself relaxing as he gazed on it, the tension of Gimli's embrace easing with his calm. In his mind he hesitated, fearful of reliving the moments of before, but he recognized too that this star was not like those of before. This star was one of promise and quiet calm. Its single light seemed a gentle voice, like that of a friend. Where those other lights had been an overwhelming force, magnificent and moving, this one was just a simple token, a moment of calm that might give him peace. But then he reminded himself that none of this was real, that what he chose to look at was not a true star to guide him, merely an imitation of Varda's gift. 

Still, it was uplifting, and it carried him away from his sorrows in that moment. He noticed then too that with that star, the sea's call seemed less a plague on his heart, and that alone was enough to make him wish to gaze on it.

"That is your hope, Legolas," Gimli whispered into his ear. "That is your beacon."

Legolas wondered of it. Dare he set his eyes there with any expectation? Dare he use it as an escape from his misery?

He was confused. He knew not his answer. "If this is hope, it is false hope, Gimli," the elf protested with a sigh.

Gimli's voice was yet a whisper in his ear and the elf was uncertain it belonged to the dwarf. Husky and deceptive it sounded, but it occurred to the elf it was a woman who spoke. The voice, decidedly not Gimli's, resonated while the touch of breath tickled his sensitive ear. "That lighted star is reason yet for hope. Be it false or real, it may guide you for a time until your surety is known fully to your heart. Do you really wish to leave, Legolas? I think your heart might lie here. I think it tells you to stay. Will you not remain with me for a time more?" 

Legolas looked behind him. He could see naught of Gimli in the shadows, and he wondered if it was indeed the dwarf who still held him. And then compelled in a way he could only describe as something hypnotic, he gazed hard on the light, and it shone brighter as his eyes became fixed. It seemed to pull on him, and he realized if he allowed it, he might be taken into it. The comfort of Gimli's chest pressed into his back, and the touch of arms about him was assuring He found himself easing back with the feeling of love kindled by that embrace. And so he gave in, surrendering himself to the light of that star, allowing it to fill him. And as he did, he saw a vision of a green place, of a forest revived, of fields anew, of flowers blooming and brooks flowing. He saw spring gaining over a land wrought harmed by a harsh winter, and he was there. He was living within it, and he was happy. 

The sight was one of encouragement, and he felt replenished by it, buoyed, perhaps even intoxicated. It was a balm to a wound, a kind word when the world was harsh. He could smile again with it, feeling gentled by the soothing whisper of its promise. It became a song to him then, a melody of grace and hope-filled promise, and he fell back into it, believing it, wanting it, enjoying the rhythm of its sweet breathy words. His quickened breath as he listened to it was carried away by the vision that filled him. He felt his skin grow warm, as if the sun heated him and then he felt ruddy hue rise to his cheeks, as if a wind flushed them. The green light grew in his eyes. The color filled him greedily, cooling his fever, yet feeding him in a most delicious way. 

It licked at his flesh, coaxing him to surrender to it. It desired him like a lover. It yearned to touch him. Almost without control his body shuddered and writhed under the urgency of the green light's attentions. Desire to be consumed by it pressed him, and a low moan escaped him, the sound of it adding another dimension into the already tense ache prodding at his body.

He was riding on a wave of nothingness then, his body buoyed by air and touch. Hands ran over his flesh though he could not put them to bodily form. His mind was filled with nothing but the emerald color. The sound of new grass and blossoming flowers rang in his ears, their song joined with the awakening noises of a forest returning from a hibernating sleep. His mind meshed with the languid sluggishness of the trees, enjoying the pleasures found in lying in easy recline while joy was brought to him. And his body thrummed with need.

Hands freed him, stroked him, ran warmth and pressure over him in a taunting and exhilarating means that made him sigh in the pleasure it brought. His own hands unconsciously joined into the game, running over his body, touching it, growing more and more excited as his passions rose. He touched his thighs, his torso, his nipples, his neck. His fingers glanced over parted lips, feeling the heat of his breath form tremulous whispers of sound. And then, as if they were not his own, those slender hands slid over his belly to rub across rising flesh, feeling his heated arousal spring up to meet his joining fingers.

"See it in your mind. Let it fill you. Let it become your desire," a voice sighed as tender whispers were laid over Legolas' throat and chest.

Legolas complied, surrendering his thoughts to the color of that light. The vision of the gem was consuming. It was enticing. It controlled him, forcing him to know only that. It took him and Legolas was willing to let it, allowing his mind to find completeness in its color. He lost all control, no longer knowing where the boundaries of his body lay. His hands washed over his flesh, but they did not belong to him. It was the light that possessed them. His fingers rubbed the sharp points of his nipples, pinching them and pressing on them, and he felt the jolt of electrified pleasure that gave his body, but such pleasure was a creation of the light's make. His head lifted to expose his throat, volition given of its own accord to do so. Voice came to him in that subtle writhing, a sigh of exuberant joy expressed in his pleasures. The light was in him. It brought life to him, forcing his heart to pump, his body to sing in fulfillment. His back arched and his hips thrummed in gyration as the heat of that sparkling gem worked over him, into him, around him. And then the song in his mind reached its crescendo and he felt it touch every nerve in his body, tightening his body in the sudden impulse of release, shuddering relief and joyous pleasure found in the spasm of muscles gone rigid in unspent passions. The yearning drove him, pushing his body to want this, only this. The ache was delightful. And in his mind he was fulfilled, the sweep of heat and ecstasy riding over his body running a similar course through his mind until it was spent. Spent. Spent. He was fluid and alive and uncontained in the color filling him. He shivered with the bliss such release gave him. He was free.

****

He must have dozed. He did not remember falling into reverie, but somehow he had. The sound of flint striking stone brought him back to reality, and as he blinked his eyes in the dawning of his revival, he came to realize he lay on his side, his head gently propped against his arms in the soft dirt of the cave floor. 

It was dark all about him and he noticed that the sun was completely gone from the sky now. The color of night could be seen at the opening window from above. It was the only light given, save the sparks emitted by the flint, but seconds later a small flame was tenderly caught at the flax threads. Legolas could see the highlights of Gimli's features reflected in the weak light, and as the kindling too came to be lit, the dwarf's face grew more and more prevalent.

Legolas sat up, not sure what he should say in his awakening. He was uncertain what had occurred, as nothing seemed to be amiss in his attire or his person. He knew not if he should announce his heart, but he realized in a quick second that the dwarf was not the company in which he might mask his soul.

"I might have gone mad were you not with me," the elf softly stated.

Gimli glanced quickly at his friend, his eyes reflecting the golden color of the flames that were catching in the circle of stones the dwarf had made before him. Just as quickly he looked away, as if there was danger to gaze too long at his companion. "Do not look to me for your salvation," he replied, his voice returned to the stern sound the elf was accustomed to hearing. 

"If not salvation, then what?" Legolas asked, confused by the dwarf's light dismissal of what Legolas saw as a very special gift.

"Friendship . . . kindness . . . guidance when you should stray too far from reality," the dwarf said in a low voice, as if embarrassed to say even that much. "I am not what you should live for, elf, but I will help you find what it is you need if that might aid you."

"But . . . but you helped me. You touched me," Legolas gasped, shocked and confused by Gimli's reactions. 

"You fell. I helped you up," Gimli said nonchalantly. 

Legolas shook his head, completely nonplussed. "What happened here, Gimli?" Legolas asked with hesitation, afraid of what he might be told.

"You fell. You cried about needing the stars and I gave you a direction for which to look," Gimli shrugged, as if that were the only answer he could possibly give.

"You pointed me east," Legolas stammered, remembering, his mind grappling at one of a thousand questions running through his head. "Why east?"

"It seemed the right direction," Gimli answered. "There were yet stars there that had not faded."

"And then after . . . what happened next?" Legolas asked, anxiety growing in him for the strangeness of what had occurred in both body and mind.

"You do not recall?" the dwarf asked, worry marking the tone of his voice.

"I know what I felt, but I know not how it manifested itself. Please, Gimli, tell me if I should feel shame for my conduct," Legolas pleaded. "If I did anything --"

"Gods, Legolas! What is it you think you did?" The dwarf put out his hand. "Nay, do not answer that! I wish not to know. Let me ease your mind by saying this. You simply stared at that gem while I held you. And then slowly the lights faded, and you fell asleep."

"That is all?" Legolas asked, afraid yet to breathe. 

"Well, you did speak once."

"What did I say?" the elf asked, suddenly anxious again.

"You said, 'I am home.' And then you sighed and fell asleep. You are quite heavy when you sleep you know, elf," the dwarf added.

"'I am home'? What does that mean, Gimli?" Legolas asked, terribly confused.

"How should I know? It was your dream." 

Legolas shook his head, his mind still lost in wonder. "East . . . so much of bad has come from that place," Legolas replied, suddenly considering the significance of being directed in that way. 

"Aragorn is to the east," the dwarf reminded.

The elf nodded, knowing this was true. Much was changed from what it had been. "But the west is where the sun was setting," the elf argued.

"And that would be the end, my friend," Gimli stated, as if knew there was more to this statement than just a comment about where the sun fell and rose. "East is where the day begins. Can you not find reason in that?"

"I suppose I can," Legolas said with a small smile, "But I would think on the mystery of what occurred to me for a time still if I might."

"Think on it all that you like so long as you tell me you plan to stay at my side for a time more. I can think of many more adventures we might take," Gimli said, a gentle smile softening his voice.

"For a time," the elf replied, "And I have a few places of my own that I would explore. I have not forgotten your pledge to venture to Fangorn with me."

"Nay. You would not. Such a memory you have. Elves," Gimli grumbled.

"I would like too to venture out to the plains and see if the east might truly hold me in thrall as it did in my reverie. Then I might know for certain where my dreams really take me," Legolas added.

"Did your heart not already tell you?" Gimli asked.

"I suppose it did," Legolas said with a slight smile. 

And he decided then he would not spend anymore time dwelling on the mystery. He would hold it in account to his weary body and exhausted mind that he had seen and felt what he did, and nothing else really mattered. But he was curious now to travel eastward to see if he might find the place he had seen in that vision. Might it be Ithilien in better days he had glimpsed? And if so, he knew what it was he desired more than the sea's call. He would journey that way. East. He would go in the direction where the sun rose.

And then he looked at Gimli. "But what of you, dwarf? Know you where your heart might guide you?" he asked, curious now for what his companion might consider as the next course of his life.

The dwarf looked about the cave and Legolas could see something in his friend's eyes. The dwarf held on to hope, and Legolas could see there was something more Gimli thought he might do for this world.

The elf's eyes looked up to where the dwarf's did. The faintest of sparkling gems twinkled above them, refracting crystals catching in the firelight. The elf could make out the hint of the stars that had so beguiled him earlier. They still inspired, but he knew he could not be goaded into believing their existence real as he had before.

The dwarf's deep voice broke into his thoughts, tearing him away from that recent past. "I am more as the elves than you might know, friend," Gimli said. "I too follow the stars to my dreams."

"And where do they lead you?" Legolas asked, laughing at his friend's enthusiasm and mirth.

Gimli turned about, his eyes turned upward, his body heedless of direction, only looking at the cave's sky. Enticing was the vision even if it was faint and a falsity, and Legolas rightly guessed the dwarf was lured to that offering. But Legolas watched as he turned. So distracted was Gimli by the sight above that he did not notice he had turned back to the direction of the cavern's window. "The stars lead me home," he answered, and it was then that Legolas noticed it truly. The dwarf was facing west, in the direction that had been that of the setting sun. And though the sun was no longer there, the elf knew it would again fall to that place in the sky. 

_In another day. In another time_, he thought, pushing any other misery away. The dwarf faced west. And yet, despite Legolas' knowledge of where that direction led, he could live with the knowledge that the sun would yet set again. But it would not be now. There was time still before he would have to look to the direction of where the day ended.. 

For the moment, he would turn his eyes to where the sun rose, for that is where he had found his star.


End file.
